Daydreamer
by Atarwyn
Summary: 7th Year Fic. What if you had strange dreams, visions, and nightmares of people you didn't know? What if those nightmares started coming true? My name is Abigail, and I'm a Muggle, welcome to my year at Hogwarts...
1. Moving?

**A/N I do not own Harry Potter or anything else that you know from somewhere. I however b do /b own characters that you do not know from somewhere else, and I would appreciate it if you did not steal them from me.**

**Thank you, and please enjoy the story**

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: I'm Lawyerphobic . . .

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_"We're moving?"_ I screamed inside my head. I couldn't believe it; I lived my whole life at Honeysuckle Lane. All of my friends lived there, I grew up there, had my first kiss under the Dogwood tree behind the big, blue house, and we were moving

"I don't understand mother, why?" I asked my mother nicely with a fails smile on my face.I asked nicely against my will, but only because if I didn't I would get smacked for being _rude_ as my father put it.My father believed in punishment, as did I, but he believed in a different type of punishment: Harsh punishment.

He wasn't in the living room where my mother and I were talking, but being polite was a habit that was given to me I wanted to yell and scream, punch and kick the air in frustration. It had been a long time since I last had a temper tantrum. Twelve years ago in fact.

I was three at the time. Father, mother and I were at the grocery store and I wanted the blue bubble gumball in the machine, but my father wanted "his little girl" to have the pink bubble gum. So instead he bought the pink gum off the shelf, and refused to give me a quarter for the gumball-machine.

I was always, and will always be, stubborn so I cried, that was all, cried. I didn't scream, shout or whine, just cried. And from the 'discipline' I was given for crying, I learned that I would never, ever, cry for something that I did not have permission to have.

I had learned at the simple age of three that my father did not have a soft heart.

"Your father and I decided that we need to try something new. Broaden our horizons, as they say," mother said kindly.

I knew it was a big, fat lie when my mother said, "your father and I."

My father and mother never decided anything together. My father would tell, and my mother would do, that was the way it worked with my parents.

I had made an oath when I had turned four, that if I ever married I would never let my husband tell me what I was, and was not permitted to do. I had learned that my mother was weak, I knew I would never be weak.

Just then father walked into the room. Mother sat up straight in her chair, placed her gentle hands on her small lap, and looked straight in front of her.

I remembered being very young, and wondering why mother would always do that whenever father walked into the room she was in. I understood it now.

"What's going on in here?" Father asked sweetly.

He always acted the angel when both mother and I were in the same room together. I figured he thought I didn't know that he was mean to mother, and mother didn't know that he was mean to me.

_"He never was the bright one."_ I thought to myself.

I never left mother alone if I could help it; I had to take care of her. There was one time father didn't know I was still in the room. I still had bad dreams about it at night. Mother didn't defend herself against him as he hurt her, but I had to help, she was my mother.

I had ran in front of my mother before father struck her again. I had closed my eyes, ready for the blow, but I didn't feel anything, just heard father scream. I opened my eyes and saw him on the kitchen floor, cradling his arm. I still didn't know what happened, and I didn't care to figure it out now. I just wanted to know the real reason why we were going to move, so I decided to ask.

"Mother was just telling me that we are going to move, but you are not going to make us move . . . Are you?" I asked in my princess voice.

"Yes, we're going to move this weekend," he replied. My eyes widened in disappointment. "Go get packing."

My heart fell all the way to the light green carpet. _"So it's true,"_ I thought. _"I'm really leaving everything behind." _

"Don't worry about it Abby," father said.I cringed. I could never stand it when someone called me Abby or Abigail, my full name, but I liked Abigail better then Abby. I only really liked to be called Atarwyn, but only my close friends called me that.

I sniffed. I would miss my friends too. I thought about one of my best friends, Kristin._"What a strange person_,_"_ I thought as I shook my head, smiling.

I turned and went to leave the perfect living room to go say goodbye to my bedroom, when I snapped back to reality and remembered my important duty.

"Umm, mother . . . Could you come help me pack?"

My mother looked so relieved it made me sick. She had been afraid I would leave her alone with father. She was so helpless, needing her own daughter to take care of her.

Mother and I walked down the hallway, past the kitchen to my room.

I would miss my room so very much. Even though I was not able to put what I wanted in it, it was still my room.

I wanted dark green walls: Father made them purple.

I wanted swords, dragons, wizards, art and all fantasy: I got horses and unicorns.

Father said that unicorns were enough fantasy for a girl.

When I thought about it, I wouldn't miss my room that much, just the memory's that were in it.

I remembered being small, and mother telling me stories on the nights when father was away.

So many wonderful stories.

Stories about wizards and witches that would do extraordinary magic with wands made of wood and magical creatures.

Stories about horses you couldn't see unless you saw someone die in front of you and it haunted your dreams at night. They were as black as night and their eyes were as pale as the moon. They had wings like a powerful bat, and could fly over the highest tree with them.

Stories about a Dark Wizard who had red eyes that looked like cats pupils. Pale skin that looked like death. Hands that felt like cold spiders and a voice that hissed like a serpent.

Mother told me that this wizard was so evil, people didn't even speak his name.

When I asked mother what his name was, she told me that his name was so scary that little girls would be to scared to sleep if they heard it. I told her that I wouldn't be scared, and that I was brave.

She said that even the bravest witch and wizard feared his name, and that she would not tell me until I was older.

To this day she says that I am still too young.

Now I wondered if she even came up with a name for this villain that haunted all of my bedtime stories.

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	2. Meeting the Dursley's

**: I'm scared of Lawyers . . .**

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_I was in a grand castle; the castle my mother had told me stories about was I was younger. __I was on top of the tallest tower and the wind was gently blowing my brunette hair around my relaxed face. __"It's so beautiful," I whispered softly._

_On the ground I looked at a peaceful tree that was looking over a calm lake, the wind was making ripples on the clear water as a leaf floated by. _

_I was about to turn to leave the tower when I saw something. An owl, as white as snow flying as one with the air. She flew to me and landed on the brick wall I was leaning against. She looked at me with soft amber eyes and hooted friendly. _

_I reach out to touch her soft feathers and take _

"Come on Abigail," mother sighed. "Let's pack your things." I was daydreaming again. It seemed to happen all the time to me when I wasn't careful.

Mother could always tell when I was flying over clouds or fighting dragons or even just talking to a friendly fairy. Whenever she saw this, she would let me stay in my dream word, except when there was work to be done that could not wait.

Mother would say that she wished she could go with me to a far away land and do wonderful things with me there, but unfortunately her time for magic was over. I knew she envied me, and in a way it was sad.

I looked around in my room, there were clothes all over the floor. Paper that had drawings and paintings on them flooded my desk in the far corner of the room, and I dared not look in the closet.

_"It's going to take forever to clean this up!"_ I thought as I looked at the war zone that was my room. Fortunately I was wrong, it didn't take as long as I thought it would to clean up and pack my belonging into boxes. In a way it was like magic.

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Two day's later, we, that meaning mother and I, packed the moving truck with our lives. _"It's weird how people can become so attached to things,"_I thought sadly.

We traveled on the road for what seemed like an eternity. I leaned on, and stared, out the side window of the car, wondering what my life was going to be like when we got to wherever it was we were going.

We passed cities, countryside's and small villages; none of which looked familiar to me. I wanted this long, miserable trip to end.

_I was flying on a broomstick high up in the air, trying to catch a golden bird. There were other teens my age flying as well. They were wearing strange clothes, some teens wore maroon and other teens wore green. The golden bird was so close, I reached out my hand and_

"Well, here we are!" Father said happily. I opened my eyes and looked out the car widow, only to see the most boring looking street known to man.

All of the houses looked the same. The lawns looked the same. Even there cars looked the same. Because they all had one thing in common: They were all clean.

I looked and saw a sign that read:** Privet Drive. **

" _Wow! _This looks so _exiting!_ " I said sarcastically. My insolence won me a smack in the back of the head.

I walked up the driveway and into the house that would be our new home, leaving father and mother behind me as they talked about how they were going to unpack the truck. I looked around the house and there was only one word I could use to describe it: Boring.

The carpet was boring, the kitchen was boring, the wallpaper was boring, the living room was boring. Everything looked so boring I felt like turning back to the boring door and run all the way back home; but then I remembered that I would never make it back to my old house, and that I just needed to deal with it.

"So what do you think?" Father asked me. He and mother stepped inside holding a box each.

"Lovely."

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I had just finished putting boxes full of my things in my new boring, white room, when there was a loud knock at the front door.

"Why they didn't ring the ruddy doorbell, I will never know," I grumbled to myself, I was still in a very bad mood. br /

_Ding-dong!_ The doorbell made in its boring tune.

I walked down the stairs and opened the white front door to see who the visitor was. I held back my laughter as best I could when I saw the scene in front of me.

There was a man with almost no neck and had a mustache that looked like a hairy caterpillar on his upper lip. He was with a blonde woman with horse teeth, that was so skinny and strict looking it bothered me; and a boy about my age that looked like he ate a fat killer whale for breakfast.

"May I help you?" I asked, holding back my laughter with some difficulty.

"Yes, we just wanted to welcome you to Privet Drive," said the horse-toothed woman in an oddly sweet voice that didn't match her looks at all.

"Oh, please do come in," I said surprised, gesturing the strange family into my house.

"My father and mother are not here right now," I explained leading them into the living room. "They went to the store to get food for dinner."

The weird family sat down in the living room and made themselves look right at home. The fat boy that looked about my age had to sit by himself in the loveseat, as there wasn't enough room on the couch with his parents or in a chair. I was going to go make some tea for my guests, but the tea was still in one of the endless boxes in the kitchen. So I just took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.

"Umm," I started. I looked at the family and realized I had no idea who they were. I didn't know how to ask them without being rude so I did the only thing that came to mind. "My name is Abigail Elfwood . . . and you are?"

"I am Mrs. Petunia Dursley," the skinny woman said. "And this is my husband Vernon, and my son Dudley."

Her legs were crossed in a very ladylike manner, and I became very self-conscious at the unladylike way I was sitting. I quickly sat up strait and crossed my legs with an embarrassed air, smiling a little at the way the three of them looked at me. They were obviously a very proper family.

I quickly learned allot about the Dursley family from that one visit.

Mr. Dursley had a business that made drills, (Grumbles or something like that,) and didn't like anything out of the ordinary. I also learned that when he got angry, a vein in his forehead would look like it would pop and spray the room.

Mrs. Dursley liked gossiping more then anyone I had ever met. I learned at least one bad thing about everyone that lived at Privet Drive from her, and also that she never missed any celebrity story she could get her hands on. I also saw her hands twitch as she eyed the dusty house.

Dudley Dursley was a big bully, (they didn't tell me this of course,) and was going to be a big boxing star, (as his father put it.) I hoped I wouldn't be stuck at the same school as him. I made a mental note to talk to mother about it.

After the Dursley's left, I felt so relieved to shut the door behind them, but the i fun /i wasn't over.

_i Ding-dong/i_

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I had had so many guests come over to welcome me to Privet Drive, that by the end of the day I felt like going to bed and have a nice long sleep and never wake up again.

Not one of the guests really had anything good to say. They all told me about life at Privet Drive; boring might I add, and about the people that lived there. The only person that I thought I might like to meet was a woman mentioned by the name of Mrs. Figg, though I didn't like cats that much.

The only thing that really got my interest was when Mrs. Piers told me that I was a pretty girl and needed to be careful.

"Careful of what?" I asked. I had been daydreaming about making a teacup grow legs and walk on the table I was sitting at, but this statement brought me out of my dream world.

"Of the Potter boy," Mrs. Piers said. "He's the Dursley's nephew."

"But the Dursley's were just here, and they didn't have a Potter with them," I said confused.

I didn't understand_."Why would they not bring their nephew with them?"_ I thought. _"Well, maybe he didn't want to be with the Dursley's. I know I wouldn't want to!" _

"That's because he's a troublemaker. Always causing problems," Mrs. Piers said.

"How does he cause problems?" I asked curious of this boy.

"Well this summer he wondered around the streets," she said this as if this Potter boy killed her pet cat.

"Is that all?" I thought this conversation to be quite funny, the way Mrs. Piers was talking about this boy.

_" Is that all?"_ Mrs. Piers gasped. "Of course not! About three years ago the Dursley's had the Mason's come for dinner—There a very wealthy couple—" Mrs. Piers added quickly. "Well anyway, they were having dinner and having a very nice time when . . ."

"What?" I asked, leaning on the edge of my seat.

"He threw the pudding on top of Mrs. Mason's head!" Mrs. Piers squeaked, her eyes were wide and become teary.

I had tried to hold it back, I really did, but I couldn't. The thought of throwing pudding on top of some rich snob's head sounded like something I wished I could do. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, I couldn't help but feel proud of this Potter boy.

I stopped laughing and gained my composure as best I could. "Oh, I mean . . . that's awful!" I said shaking my head, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Mrs. Piers didn't fall for my act for one second. "Well it's fine now. He's at a school that's beating the trouble out of him," Mrs. Piers said with a smile.

"Oh, that's good," I said.

But I didn't think it was good at all . . .

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**Cheers Atarwyn**


	3. The Sleeping Man & the Snake

: When I was a little girl I was chased by killer pink Lawyers . . .

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That night after dinner I went up to my new, boring room. It was small and unexciting, with its blank, white walls, and ugly blue striped drapes.

I hated my new room, but I knew that I'd have to learn to live with it. But I promised myself that the drapes were the first things to go.

I unpacked some boxes full of my belongings and put them in and on top of my ugly, new dresser.  
After a while I became tired, so I started looking for some clothes to sleep in, a warm blanket, and a pillow, or two, or three.

_"I'm so spoiled,"_ I thought with a chuckle.

It was November and the nights were really cold and the snow started to fall and cover Privet Drive.  
I had just found a big shirt and tight shorts to sleep in and started putting them on so I could go to bed.

I had gotten the shorts on and was going to take off my tang top that I wore under my sweater and put on the big shirt, when I heard something odd.

I looked around and I saw a grown man sleeping next to my bedroom door.  
I froze up.

_"Why the bloody hell is there a man in my room?"_ I thought franticly.

I wanted to scream, cry for help, but I was too afraid that I would wake the man up.

Then I realized something else.

_"What happened to the white walls?"_

I looked around, and sure enough, the white walls were gone. Dark bricks replaced them, and there were no ugly drapes, there weren't any windows to cover. No bed, no dresser, nothing was in the room.

_"I'm in a different room!"_ My mind screamed.

I was really freaking out now. I started shaking involuntarily, and I felt really cold. I then noticed that I could see my own breath coming from my quivering mouth.

_"Why is it so cold?"_ I knew there were more important things to worry about. But it was so hard not to think about the coldness when all I was wearing was tight shorts and a tang top.

I looked back at the sleeping man. The room was dark and I couldn't see him very well, but I could tell that he had red hair and glasses.

I slowly started to walk towered the man, I just wanted to know who he was and how I got to this strange place. But then I saw something else.

"Oh God," I whispered with fear.

There was a huge snake coming right at me. At first I was going to do what anyone would do, run my ass off. But I knew that if I did, the snake would get scared and strike.  
So, I stood still, as still as my body would let me. The snake was the biggest snake I had ever seen in my life.

_"The Discovery Channel never told me that there were snakes this big in the world!"_ I hissed to myself. I still couldn't help but be sarcastec, even at a time like this.

Closer and closer it came toward my shaking body.  
I started crying silently.

_"This is it,"_ I thought. _"This is the end of the line. But God please let a miracle happen. You're not out of them are you?"_

The snake came closer and did something that I will never understand. It went right through my right foot.

My eyes were so wide they started to burn from lack of moisture.

"No way," I said silently. I turned and saw the snake going toward the sleeping man. I was about to yell to warn him, but to my relief he woke and stood up.

"There's a snake!" I cried. I didn't know if the man was good or bad, but I knew that no one deserved to be bitten be that snake.

The man saw the snake but didn't look up at me. I didn't really blame him, if there was a big snake in front of me I wouldn't care about a sixteen-year-old girl.

I didn't know what to do to help, so I stayed still and quite.  
The man slowly reached his hand into his pocket.

_"Oh, good,"_ I thought. _"He has a gun."_

The man slowly pulled something out of his pocket. I saw what it was and the smile slowly fell from my face.

"A stick? That's your big weapon? What are you going to do, throw it at him?" I yelled sarcastically. 

Whatever the man was going to do to with it, he waited too long. The snake viciously attacked.

The man yelled out in pain as the snake struck his flesh. I screamed out in fright, putting my hands over my mouth and backing up to the cold stone wall. Then out of nowhere there was a noise I didn't expect to hear, a boy yelling.

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It was like waking from a nightmare; it just ended. I looked around and I was in my new room. I was still holding the big shirt in my hands. 

"It was a dream?" I asked myself in disbelief.

I felt my face with my shaking sweaty hands. There were tears running down my cheeks and sweat on my forehead.

I don't know what made me do it, but I jumped up from my sitting position on the floor and ran down the stairs. I only stopped to take a breath when I reached the outside of my parents door. It was still early so I knew my parents were still awake, so I knocked.

"Come in!" I opened the door and walked in the room. My father was sitting on the bed, and my mother was putting laundry in the dresser.

"Mother can I talk to you?" I asked.

"Sure sweetie, what is it?"

"Alone," I said.

Mother looked taken aback by this, but nodded. We walked up the stairs to my room and I sat down on my bed. Mother did the same.

"So what's this all about Abigail?" Mother asked kindly.  
I looked at her, not knowing what to say. I knew my mother would believe me; but I just didn't know how to say it without sounding like I belonged in a padded room.

"Mother, you know how I daydream allot?" Mother nodded, I could tell she was trying to figure out where this was going. "Well I was daydreaming a while ago, and I saw a man . . ."

The night became darker and colder. Mother listened while I related everything to her that I daydreamed about. I didn't know why I felt like I needed to tell her, but I knew I had to.

" . . . And I wanted to know what he was going to do with a stick, but it was too late. The snake bit him. It _bit_ him mother! There was blood everywhere!" I started crying again. I didn't understand it, I never cried, I learned not to at the age of two.

"Shh, sweetie it's okay," Mother pulled me into a hug as she said this. "It was just a dream. Nothing will hurt you. Like the snake, it didn't hurt you because it was a dream."

I knew she was right, and I felt much better. I could always go to mother, we were a team, her and I. We need each other to survive. 

She held me for a while, and I remembered when she used to tell me stories. Oh, so long ago. Stories of good, and stories of bad. Good and Evil, fighting each other for there different beliefs. 

Those times past seemed more like a dream then the dream with the snake and sleeping man.

Deep down I sent a prayer to the man and his family . . .

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Did you like it? Please tell me what you think! I love your reviews so much!  
Cheers  
Atarwyn


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